Real Emergency
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: Phil needs Keely's right now!


Thanks to okaie for the inspiration ...

♥♥

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney stock or PotF, or is it that I don't own Phil of the Future, so I don't own Disney stock? No, it's probably because of how Disney's treated Phil of the Future that I don't own Disney stock.

Claimer: Thanks to everyone who publishes here! Your efforts are always appreciated!

A little late for Valentine's Day, but it's the thought that matters.

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The note's folded corner poked into her left biceps. Turning, she saw the folded notebook paper being passed along. Grabbing it, she repeated the gesture to the boy sitting in front of her, and he took it in turn with a smile. Immediately he opened it. Was that a sigh or a little growl coming from the seat in front of her?

Refolded, he passed back the note, slight annoyance painted on his face, and she passed it back as per H. G. Wells etiquette. Instantly, the note was poking her again in the arm. She ignored it. OUCH! The center of her back! The girl behind her was determined to have her take back the note. OUCH! Really determined.

The junior acupuncture club must have loved her, went through my mind as I again accepted the note. I started to pass it to the guy in front of me when it caught my eye. His scrawl. My name. I unfolded the message as fast as I could. It read:

EMERGENCY!

Meet Me Now In The West Stairwell.

Phil

What happened this time? Had one of Vice Principal Hackett's dopey traps finally worked? Even as my right hand shot up clutching my student press pass, my left was busy sweeping my notes and pen between the pages of my economics text, and then into my bag. A quick nod of permission from Miss Donaldson and I was on my way.

I'm coming, Phil!

It could be another future disease. Wonder what he'll look like this time. Or, more likely, one of his future gadgets is missing again, or gone haywire. Speaking of haywire, it was more likely that Pim was jeopardizing the Diffy family with another of her series of foolproof schemes for world domination. I swear, if Phil didn't assure me otherwise, I would have been sure that Pinky and the Brain was still being broadcast in the 22nd Century. Sure, that's probably what the emergency is, unless it's Curtis! What if some woman from the hardware store has fallen in love with him. Chunks! Think of the age difference! Still, if Curtis is one thing, it's adaptable. He'd make it work. I wonder if I could be a bridesmaid ...

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Finally. Good, she's here! Why is she smiling? Does she think that this is a joke? This is serious trouble. How is she going to take this? Will she be mad at me? Not fair. It's not my doing, not my fault. Sure, it affects both of us, but I'm innocent here. I only hope that, that she keeps smiling after I tell her.

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I whisper, "Hi Keels."

"Hi Phil. What's the emergency?" she whispers back to me.

"Okay, it's like this. First, you have to understand that I did everything I could to discourage this. Keely, it's not my fault. Please don't hate me."

She's tearing up. She knows. Darn it, why'd I have to fall for a reporter? Seems like they don't just want to know what's going on, but that they want to know everything that's happening, and they read minds for the rest. I want to scream that this isn't my fault, but the last thing that I want to do is scream at her. It's not her fault either. All I can do is reach for her.

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This can't be good news. Boyfriends don't greet their girlfriends with handshakes. Still, I take his hand; I could hardly refuse, and so I sit down on the steps, pulling him beside me. Looks like this is it. Either way, I'm not going to be a bridesmaid, nor a bride. I punch him in the arm. I'm not mad at him, just the world and how it treats us. Instead of pounding Phil again, I dig my fingernails into wood on the underside of the step. It helps me hold back my tears.

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"I don't hate you."

"So why do you keep hitting me, Teslow?"

"Because I can. Maybe I can't change things, but this I can do."

They're still holding hands, squeezing tighter and tighter, as if that were possible. Hanging on for their dear lives; more, their dear life together. Both getting teary-eyed, they struggle to face their partner.

"Keely, I never wanted this to happen. I promise you, I did nothing to --"

"Shhhh ... it'll be all right, Philly-Willy."

"Keels, did you have to call me that now, in this situation?"

"You said -- listen, if you're going back to the future, what does it matter what I call --"

"Going back? We're not -- I'm not going back. Not today, anyway. Keely, you don't know why I needed you here, do you?"

"Sniff"

"There's this new girl in art class."

"Sniffle."

"Her name's Gwen."

"Sniffle-SNIFF!"

"ANDSHE'SWORSTTHANMARLA&GRACEPUTTOGETHER."

"Snif-Huh?"

"I've told her that I'm not interested, but she's not interested in taking 'No' for an answer. I need your help before I have her in Public Speaking next period."

"What can I -- how can I help, Phil?"

"Touch up. I need a touch up fast."

Keely's expression stayed lucid, but blank, so her boyfriend pulled back his left sleeve. There on his wrist was a tiny heart, nearly faded way. Keely dug into her bag and retrieved her extra-fine ball-point from her economics book. One last sniffle as she rested Phil's wrist into her own left hand. She started in the center, carefully tracing the little "K" she had scribed there on the weekend. Phil was smiling and she caught him when she glanced up, resulting in her smile growing ever broader. Next, the attentive inking of the heart border around her initial. Amazing. She's holding the wrist of her love, born of another time, but somehow their paths intersected, then joined, and now inseparable, permanent. The crown of the tiny heart was completed.

"Done. Thanks Keels."

"Almost." Keely Teslow unbuttoned his left sleeve's cuff and pulled back his sleeve some more. Kisses were then left, each leaving a pair of lip prints in reddish cranberry, each connecting to the previous, up to the still drying ink. Leaving his cuff undone, she declared it finished. He rolled his sleeve further up so Gwen couldn't miss Keely's signature.

"Wait, let me see yours."

"Nobody is making passes at me, Mr. Diffy."

"Come on. I want to give you a fresh coat."

"No, I'm fine," she laughs and tries to get away. She never even gets to straighten her knees before he's pulled her back down on top of him. If anyone else heard Keely, they'd swear that Phil was tickling her, but again, he's innocent. Sure, he's trying to expose her left wrist and she's doing all she can to stop him, but her laughter is entirely joyous and emanating from her heart, without the need for a good tickle.

"Show me!"

"NO! Look at your own!"

"That's just not the same and you know it. Come on, just a peek?!!"

"Miss Teslow! Mr. Diffy! What are you two doing down there?"

"Nothing," resounds the chorus.

"Well, get back to class and do nothing there!"

Giggling that they can't suppress erupts, but the two lovers gather their things and, rising, again take up the mantle of being H. G. Wells students.

Sixty-three minutes until lunch.

Is not a kiss the very autograph of love?

--Henry Finck

♥♥

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